by Kiersten Fay
A scream ripped through her lungs; he bellowed.
Mind-bending pleasure tore through him. He snarled into the crook of her neck as his thunderous release overcame him. On and on, ecstasy assailed him.
Finally he came back into his body. She went languid under him.
For a long moment, neither of them moved as they struggled to catch their breath. When he gathered the strength to release her, he rolled to the side and stared up at the ceiling, wondering how he could survive without the pleasures of her body.
12
“I think that was a mistake,” muttered June. When Tristan grew tense, she folded her body over his and kissed his chest. “Because I’m pretty sure you ruined me for other men.”
Relaxing once more, he lazily chucked. “I could say the same to you.”
“I ruined you for other men too?” she teased.
He reached down to pinch her side. She yelped, retaliating by gently nipping his nipple. When he rolled over to trap her under him once more, she giggled, loving his weight on top of her. Her humor quickly died when he took her lips in a punishing kiss that had her body stirring, even after he’d given her how many toe-curling orgasms?
“Little witch. Your greedy little body took everything I have. For the first time I’ll need a minute to recover.” He flopped to his back, hooking his arm around her and pulling her into his side, and roughly cupped her backside with one large hand.
His manhandling made her want to purr. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You should.”
Resting her head on his peck, she sighed and let her eyes fall closed. Her muscles were deliciously sore and his musky scent wafted through her nostrils, lulling her. She wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, but she was a bit groggy when he asked, “Do you have a steady lover back on Earth?”
“Hmm? Oh. No, not currently.”
“Why not?”
“Just hard to meet someone I wanted to waste my time on. I’ve been told my standards are too high.”
“How so?”
“Well, I guess it’s because I see red flags everywhere.”
“Red flags? I don’t get your meaning.”
“Red flag. Like when someone does something that you think could lead to destructive behavior down the road. Like cheating or abuse or dysfunctionality. Things like that.”
“You can tell all that with a red flag?”
She smiled, understanding he was from a different culture. “Not a literal flag. It’s a figure of speech. Sometimes it can be like a sixth sense,”—at his look, she elaborated—“Like when something doesn’t feel right, but you can’t always put your finger on it. Other times it’s something more obvious, if you know what to look for.”
“And you know what to look for?”
“Better than most.”
“Can I get a for instance?”
She glanced up at him. “You’re not tired? Most men would pass out after the performance you gave.”
He grinned. Oh, he liked the veiled compliment. “I’m not most men.” After a beat, he added, “Besides, I like your voice.”
That was surprisingly sweet. “Well, let’s see. At the start of any relationship, everyone is trying to show their best selves, but our fundamental natures will always peek through the cracks. If a man is a cheater, you might catch him ogling a woman’s body longer than is socially acceptable. That’s a red flag to pay closer attention to his behavior. Also, he might make lewd comments to his friends when he thinks you can’t hear. If a man brings you to a bar and is on a first name basis with the regulars, you might need to consider if he’s an alcoholic.
“Or if a man is abusive…he might be quick to anger, or he might snap at you for no reason, or he might make offhanded comments to undermine your confidence. Stay with him long enough and it’s only a matter of time before he’s slapping you around and convincing you it’s your fault. I guess it’s easier for me to spot that sort of thing, though.”
“How so?”
She decided for brutal honesty here. Having forged this part of her history in her work as a counselor, she was used to talking about it. “Because I grew up with it.”
He went silent, his body humming with a new kind of tension. She could tell he was dying to ask, but wasn’t sure if he should.
“It was my father,” she admitted. “He gambled and drank, and when he came home after losing his paycheck, he’d beat on whoever made the first wrong comment. My mother, my brother, me. Spoiler alert, he was bad at gambling. I never understood it. If you keep losing, why go back week after week?” She sighed. “I guess it was an addiction thing, but it’s also idiotic.”
“Ask me and I will kill him for you.” Tristan’s tone had turned deadly, his fingers digging into her hip. It wasn’t painful, just…intense. When his words sank in, the memory of that last horrid night flashed in her mind. Blood everywhere. Her mother’s screams in her ear. The body lying motionless on the threadbare carpet in their living room….
“He’s already dead,” she whispered, tears prickling. She worked to choke them back and buried that memory deep in the darkest most secure pit of her mind where it couldn’t hurt her. There was no going back. There was no changing the past.
Pinching her chin, Tristan tilted her head to examine her face. “You weep for the monster after he failed you in the worst way?”
“I’m not sad that he’s dead,” she said as an errant tear spilled from one eye.
He cupped her cheek and gently wiped away the tear with his thumb. “No?”
She shook her head and once more placed her cheek against his chest, hiding her face. “I didn’t mean to get emotional. I’m sorry. Let’s talk of something else, please. How about you tell me about your father. I bet he was wonderful.”
Silence lingered for a moment before Tristan relented. “He was.”
“Do you mind talking about him?”
“No. He was a good man. A good father and a good king. Benevolent, but strong. He would never abide a man like your father. We are people of honor and abuse like what you speak of is a form of dishonor. The abuser would be treated harshly, either banished or in some cases sentenced to death.”
“Really?”
“Aye. My people have no mercy for those who have no honor.”
She turned cheeky. “Well, I hope I honored you tonight.”
A chuckle rippled through his chest. “You’ll honor me again if I have my way.” Gripping her ass in one rough hand, he lifted her to straddle him and pulled her down for a searing kiss—
A sudden chirping sound drew their attention.
Tristan sighed. “That’s my communicator. I must take this.”
“Sure. Okay.” She slid off of him.
Shuffling off the bed, he crossed to a dresser and tapped a few buttons on a device that reminded her of an Earth tablet. “Prince Gideon. It is later here. What do you need?”
She couldn’t see the screen, but a voice fizzed through the speakers. “Only to relay some alarming information, Highness. Witches have been spotted near your castle and a youngling has gone missing.”
“Witches don’t usually go after children,” Tristan said, concerned lacing his tone.
“We don’t know for sure if they took him, but the search is ongoing. And there’s something else…” The voice trailed off.
“What is it?”
“A rumor is spreading about you, Your Majesty…” Again the voice trailed off, as if this rumor could be worse than a missing child.
“Out with it, Prince Gideon.”
“Some in the clan suspect you of killing your father to take power.”
June gasped. Tristan looked as though he’d been gut-punched.
“Is someone there with you, Tristan?”
“No,” he snapped, and June pinched her lips closed, pulling the covers up over her breasts as though she needed to shield herself from the unseeing eyes. “Who has started this nasty rumor?”
“I doon
a know. Only that we await your return so we might clear this up swiftly.”
“We will begin the journey home as soon as we are able.”
“Very good. If I am going to tie my line to yours, I’d rather not have such a scandal hanging over us.”
Tristan ended the transmission and slumped in a nearby chair, looking gutted. Not knowing what to say, June remained quiet.
After a moment, Tristan finally spoke. “I’m afraid we canna take you home just yet. I must return to my kingdom right away.
13
Legura, Tristan’s planet, was as beautiful as Evlon, and just as foreign. As they disembarked from the ship, the first thing she noticed was two moons hauntingly visible in midday.
Beautiful.
They’d landed in a massive courtyard where other ships had been docked. Tristan came up beside her, gauging her expression. She was secretly grateful for the trouble that had forced her to remain with him. He’d kept her in his bed practically the entire trip. And holy hell did that man know how to use his mouth, and his hands…and, well, all of his man parts. They’d only left his room for nourishment and for Tristan to receive updates on their progress. Then it was back to horizontal aerobics. She must have lost ten pounds with all the work they’d put in.
She grinned up at him, but her smile was a little forced. Would their relationship be different now that they had arrived? He was a king, after all.
Tristan’s tone was different than the one he used with her in the bedroom. Firmer. Short. Careful. “You will walk in behind us, next to Belinda.”
Behind? Because she was a commoner?
Belinda didn’t look pleased to be her escort, but pulled her by the elbow to stand at the end…the very end…of the procession. Definitely different, she thought, as they began moving as one unit.
She didn’t think it was possible, but Tristan’s castle was even more impressive than Kyra’s. Her best view of it had been from the sky just before they’d landed. It was the tallest structure within sight, practically growing out of a dense forest landscape. The castle’s most notable feature was the three uneven towers stretching toward the sky. The whole structure was resided on top of a hill and was encircled by a town of stone and tile-roofed buildings. The city itself was surrounded by a thick, flourishing jungle that stretched out to meet a vast ocean to the north.
As she followed the royals inside, she had to stop and marvel at the castle’s impressive and gimongous stonework, which reminded her of the giant stones that made up Sacsayhuamán in Peru. Two to three times her height, no two stones were alike; skewed and misshapen, yet they fit together perfectly like a puzzle.
Inside, she could imagine she wasn’t in a castle but in a modern, yet oversized mansion. June had never seen such opulence outside of museums. Every entryway was remarkably large—to accommodate dragons, she supposed—and the mark of generational wealth dripped in every direction, from the decorative stone tiles that reflectively sparkled as if polished daily, to the exotic vases and statues displayed on masterfully crafted marquetry stands, and the elegant recessed lighting that illuminated huge gilt-framed paintings of dour men and women who June assumed were past kings and queens and Tristan’s relatives.
All of it made her modest apartment back home look like a flashy outhouse with a paint job. She could not have felt more out of place if she tried.
In the next instant, she was proven wrong—the throne room, which should have had a sign posted at the entrance that read Get ready to pick your jaws up off the floor. She almost spun in circles to see it all. It was decorated in earthy tones with pops of red and gold. One Buick-sized crystal chandelier hung from the center of the high arching ceiling. Six smaller ones edged the room. Built half into the walls were smooth columns capped by elaborate filigree designs that met the base of the arched ceiling. In between those, tall, rounded windows let in a flood of light that sparkled against the reflective tile. A woven red-and-gold runner divided the room, leading up a set of stairs and ending where two majestic thrones sat empty.
Architectural Digest would piss themselves for an exclusive.
June straightened her spine and lifted her chin, trying not to seem like the yokel she was. Belinda snorted.
From a side entrance, a line of guards entered to meet them, marching in unison and arranging themselves on either side of the room. Following behind was a proud-looking man with dark hair and a Tom Selleck mustache.
“Highness,” he said with a little bow, and June recognized his voice from the transmission Tristan had received. “Your return was swifter than expected.”
“We left shortly after you contacted me and nearly burned up our warp drive. Has the child been found?”
“My men and yours are still searching, but you may want to consider addressing the dishonorable rumor before we get to that.”
Tristan waved that away. “What of the witches you spoke of? Are they hostile?”
“Er, there was a report of a sighting, but no coven has been discovered near the city as of yet.”
“Orik,” Tristan barked.
Orik hurried to Tristan’s side. “Aye, Your Majesty?”
“I’ll rely on you to canvas the area as far out as you see fit. Employ as many guards as you need. Prince Gideon, do you object to lending us your guards to aid in this endeavor?”
“Uh, no, of course no’.”
“Good. Instruct them to follow Orik’s orders. I want this child found.”
Prince Gideon cleared his throat. “And the rumors, Highness?”
“I will consider how to respond to those after I understand where this rumor originated. For now, I trust my people know better than to believe such a farce.”
Prince Gideon seemed to notice June for the first time. “Forgive me, but I have not made the young lady’s acquaintance.”
“Hi. I’m June,” she blurted, then blushed with embarrassment, wondering if there was some sort of aristocratic introduction protocol that she’d just breached. Was she supposed to have waited for one of the others to introduce her? Judging by the pinched look on Prince Gideon’s face and Tristan’s amused expression, she was.
“This is Juniper of Earth,” Tristan offered. “She will be visiting for a while and will return home shortly.”
“An Earthling? Here? I thought they were a primitive race of warmongers.”
June frowned, struggling not to look offended.
“Prince Gideon,” Edel chided. “June might come to believe we are the primitive ones with a comment like that so casually uttered in her presence.”
Reprimanded, Prince Gideon inclined his head. “Of course you are right, Your Majesty.” He stepped forward to take Junes hand and planted a soft kiss on her knuckles. His mustache tickled her knuckles. “Please forgive me, Juniper of Earth.”
“Yeah, sure.” She pulled her hand out of his grasp and surreptitiously rubbed away the prickling sensation.
Prince Gideon once more disregarded her and faced Tristan. “One more thing if I might, Your Highness. Leanora awaits your response. Will you permit me to pass along some good news?”
Tristan’s expression seemed to harden, his gaze flicking to her and back. “That is not something I wish to discuss with anyone but her. I will summon her when I’m ready.”
“As you wish.”
“Belinda,” Tristan called. “Please escort June to one of the guest rooms.” He paused. “In the north wing. The one that faces east. You know the one. And send a couple of servants to attend her with food and drink.”
June wasn’t quite sure, but she got the impression he was trying to get rid of her. And though she understood he had a lot of fires to put out, she tried not to look crestfallen. A busy king wouldn’t have much time for a nobody like her. In fact, this might be the last she saw of him before she returned home. And even then, he might send her off without even a goodbye. The thought was depressing.
“June,” he said, his tone lower than before. Softer. She pasted a smile on her fac
e. “Please make yourself at home and if you need anything, anything at all, just inform the servants and they will provide for you.”
“Oh. Okay. Thank you,” she replied, truly grateful for his protection and hospitality. As she proceeded to follow Belinda through a side entrance, she resisted the urge to reach out and steal one more taste of his skin against her fingers. Before she left, she glanced back for one last look. His back was to her as he continued conversing with Prince Gideon and the others. Still, she tried to snap a mental image to carry with her always.
Her legs felt heavy as she followed Belinda to an elevator. As they rode it up, Belinda muttered, “You don’t belong here,” and it took June a moment to realize the burly woman was talking to her, though her stiff gaze remained straight ahead.
It only took her another moment to realize Belinda didn’t like her one bit. Well, the feeling was suddenly mutual. “Apparently your king feels differently.”
When the elevator stopped, she followed Belinda down a wide hallway decorated with the same meticulous elegance and grace as below: gorgeous red-and-gold runway carpet, bracketed by chestnut-colored hardwood floors; soft, yet warm lighting from amber-and-tan mosaic sconces; detailed paintings of far-off landscapes. Once again June felt out of place.
It didn’t help when Belinda’s waspishness continued. “The king disgraces himself, fawning over a such a lowly creature.” June had been on the receiving end of plenty of insults throughout her life, most of them more creative and biting than that one. And even though on some level June agreed with her assessment—a completely ordinary human woman and a great dragon-shifting king from another planet made zero sense—it was still rude as hell to point it out.
She wasn’t going to let this snooty bitch tear her down. Or, at least, she wouldn’t let it show. June was always good at concealing her emotions—when a stray sneer or an eye roll might lead to the hospital, she had quickly learned to keep her thoughts off her face.
